Unwritten
by melloncollie00
Summary: It's the good girls who keep diaries the bad girls never have the time. Me, I just wanna live a life I am going to remember, even if I don't write it down. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own One Tree Hill, now you can't sue me! Lol

**Summary: **It's the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time. Me, I just wanna live a life I am going to remember, even if I don't write it down. Oneshot.

**Author's Note: **I've watched the entire season 2 in one night with _XxCarMinaxX_- this idea just popped out suddenly. Please read and review. Based on the Wreckers' "_Stand Still_ _Look Pretty_". (I used this song to be the inner voice of Brooke, while the thing she does in real makes an irony)

**Unwritten**

_I want to paint my face  
and pretend that I am someone else  
Sometimes I get so fed up  
I don't even wanna look at myself_

I don't know what time is it; it must be late midnight, because the lights are dim in the street and Felix's parents, whom he said would be out for whole night, are finally home. He was kissing my neck when we heard the noises; and suddenly, I find myself half-naked in the middle of the street, sneaking out of his mansion, trying to wear my bruised tank-top while tiptoeing. Felix is watching me, his hand grasping mine tightly. We somehow manage to get dressed, and start to run through the Tree Hill streets, surrounded by houses that have no idea what the hell we've been doing so far.

It's strange, though, I think while the breeze is washing my face. Since Anna, Felix's little sister officially claimed that she was a bisexual, his parents have been more protective towards him, as if putting out daily curfews and forcing him to work in a car-wash could make him more masculine. The heir to the throne of Taggaros, Tree Hill's newest scamp, is now the basic theme of an ironic-vision; a wanton who is scared of being caught by his control-freak parents. I cannot help but smile, luckily, Felix is busily concerned to recognize this.

"Shit" his voice echoes in the deserted avenue, we don't know where our destination is, yet we don't even stop for a minute to discuss where we're heading for.

"What happened now?" I snap back, trying to sound as angry as I can be. Being intervened in the middle of a sex-encounter is not the fantasy I've been having for years. Especially by two oldies experiencing hormonal-problems and taking marriage counseling for the lack of sexual intercourse in their relationship.

"They will go nuts when they realize I'm not home. Damn!"

I cannot help but roll my eyes, since when one-night stands have been that stressful, especially with a guy who claims to be the biggest player since the establishment of Tree Hill? I don't answer him back; the only thing I learned tonight is Felix Taggaro won't be in my list of "boytoys to spend the night with after a hard-party"

"Go home, then Felix. It's not that we're going to do anything after this."

He pauses for a minute, clearly not expecting such an attitude. Who does he think I am? Some toy he can play whenever the fuck he wants to? No, I'm much better than that.

"Fuck you bitch" he whispers in the middle of the night.

"No, honey" I say, smiling, not an inch of me cares about his feelings, "you just lost your chance to do that."

_But people have problems that are worse than mine  
I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time  
And I hate the way you look at me I have to say  
I wish I could start over_

Peyton, my best friend, thinks that I need a constant man in my life; so decides to hook me up with a guy she met at the Tric. I don't know why that "match-making" mania came from- because apparently, P. Sawyer is a failure; she must know that I won't go for a guy who is an emo-fan, too broody for me. Still, I don't oppose- I owe her after what I've done.

"His name is Chase Adams, and is a senior in Bear Creek High." She rubs her hands together enthusiastically, and for a girl who sulks since the day she was born, her smile seems a little bit unusual, or maybe the worse, forced. "Did I mention that he is a big fan of Mozella?"

"Yeah, for 64 times." I nod my head in disapproval, regretting the time I said I was totally Ok with this. For a slut like me, as everyone thinks and I have no problem in sticking with that reputation, talking about a lame-rock band for hours is the biggest drip since the invention of water. "Since I don't know whether this match-making is for you, or for me, because he seems like a Peyton-guy, not a Brooke-type"

"Shut up!" Peyton silences me, the thought of her with another guy than Nathan, her long-time boyfriend, short-time nothing, still scares her so much, and it becomes funny to fantasize her with the remaining Tree Hill man population. "You know I'm with Nathan"

I nod, wondering where the heck in time Nathan stopped being with her.

The thoughts of my faults crawl in my mind, but with deep experience, since I'm the queen of mistakes, I kiss them all away. If I had listed all my wrongs, they would be longer than the nights I spent alone in my bedroom, even when there is a naked guy sleeping near. Yet, I don't have the time for that. I am a bad girl.

"Fine, where is that boy anyways?" I try to concentrate on Chad, or Chase, whatever his name is, the guy who's probably waiting for Peyton's large scale of music knowledge rather than my skanky attitude.

After some time, not much, but too long for Peyton to bear, my precious match comes, with a NOFX t-shirt and a goofy smile; and after a brief introduction; falls to a deep conversation with Peyton. The image is not even a bit different than what I assumed. They immediately forget me, and I make my way to the dance floor, hoping to find a qualified boy-toy to spend the night with.

Someone who wouldn't sneak behind his parents' back, someone who is not trying to find some lame-ass philosophy over rock bands who are probably in this business to get laid.

Someone who is just in it for fun, to collect some images of life just to have something to remember. Even if he doesn't write it down.

_I am slowly falling apart  
I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start  
And you might think its easy being me  
You just stand still, look pretty_

It doesn't take long for us to get in sack; it's amazing how even small dozes of alcohol can spring the plot of "desiring your girlfriend's best friend." I have always known that Nathan Scott is too experienced to stick with the good old innocent Peyton Sawyer, yet I had no idea, I was in his betrayal list. I wonder, if he really writes down the girls he wants to have sex with on a piece of paper, but immediately find the answer: no way, he is bad enough to do that.

He tells me that they have broken up, and for all times he has felt like being stuck in a monotonous marriage rather than a high-school fling. He says he was tired of the broodiness Peyton always brought, and he needed some fun, something I could provide.

I tell him that it's a matter of time they got back together; after all, it's not the first time I hear Nathan moan about Peyton. Of course, like all the others, Nathan is highly likely to end up in Peyton's bed, and I learned not to pay attention to their "it's now, officially over" claims. It's even getting boring after some time, like watching a movie you already know the end of.

"I always wanted someone like you" Nathan blurts out after another shot of vodka on the rocks, "someone, who knows how to have fun" His face is dominated by the usual Nathan Scott smirk most girls couldn't resist, and it surprises me how quick I become one of them.

I lean closer to him, as if he isn't the boyfriend of my best friend, but someone I met randomly in a bar, probably will spend the night with and won't even remember his name the morning after. Yet, I know the concrete, solid truth that he is Nathan and guilt awakens my long-asleep conscience…only for a minute to kiss him goodnight.

"Really?" my breath lingers through his skin, and I feel proud as he shivers. Men, they are so easy. "I'm glad you appreciate it, most doesn't."

His fingers are now, dancing on my lap, trying to find the prefect move to turn me on, which is not something that is really difficult, especially when the amount of alcohol makes my life a hazy blur and Nathan a stranger rather than a taboo. He leans for a kiss and I don't push back and our tongues meet, gluing our lips to each other.

The night ends as usual, in a bed, with moans and breaths and moments of pleasure, and the click of Nathan's camera –he reminisces a fantasy of his and I don't oppose- but I don't know whether this is the end of me and Peyton… because it strongly feels it is.

_Sometimes I find myself shaking  
in the middle of the night  
and then it hits me and I can't  
even believe this is my life_

I pretend that I am 24, and tell him to call me Peyton. He immediately obeys, Nick Chavez, his hardness very, very visible even in the middle of the night. He's "supposedly" driving me to my home, like a gentleman, but I know that I'll be inviting him for a coffee, and for accompanying in my bed later on. He is not yet aware, or maybe he is just pretending to be the decent guy so that I can count on him, I don't care though, as long as he obeys my rules and doesn't question my motives.

"So what brings a girl like you to somewhere like that?" he asks, disturbed from the silence, he seems to be like those who talk too much, but actually say nothing at all.

"Just seeking for some fun" I say, smiling to show my dimples; those holes affect him immediately. "How about you?" I ask in my raspiest voice, trying to be as seductive as I can.

"Me too" he breathes back hard, trying to concentrate on the road rather than my very arousing actions. My hand is resting on his lap; and I know that if I say one more word, I could wake up to a car-wreck, or maybe to a burning-hell with Satan waiting for me. "Should I turn rightwards?"

I just nod and he obeys, each mile getting longer for him to bear. I rub my hand against his lap, and reveal my tanned legs for a pre-show. It's entertaining to watch a guy getting inept in every single revelation of yours, especially when they are physical. I laugh at the image of the possible things he might do when he sees my breasts.

"This is my house." I say and we stop in front of the big mansion I have never been able to call home. Felix's lights are turned off, I wonder whether he's sneaking off again with another one night stand.

"It was nice meeting you" he says, looking at my eyes to find a secret invitation to my house, a kiss to spend the night with. I lean forward, not disappointing him a bit.

"You wanna come, sexy?"

He knows he has no other choice.

_But people have problems that are worse than mine  
I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time  
And I wish that everyone would go an shut their mouth  
I'm not strong enough to deal with it_

I find myself waiting in front of his door- a green wooden one, probably hiding a one unconsciously-sleeping Lucas Scott, his ocean-like blue eyes unaware of my presence outside his house. I don't know what time is it, it must be late midnight, because there aren't much people outside, and I cannot hear the occasional Lucas-Scott-keyboard clicks.

Just as I decide to leave, he opens the door.

"Brooke" he whispers, his eyes locked on mine, questioning my motives. I feel like a book, an open one, and he reads me slowly, every secret, every hidden feeling is revealed, and it feels really strange- for a girl who has never written down her experiences, literally.

"Hey" I manage to say, I ran out of words, suddenly there seems no language can fill the deep hole I create between us. "How are you?"

"I'm fine" he smiles, his eyes narrowing down to make that usual brooding effect that made me fall for him from the start. "How about you? You OK?"

He knows that I'm not, he definitely knows. Still, I try to pretend, as if there is a slightest bit of hope that maybe; he is not that talented in reading my soul that fluent.

"I left some guy sleeping in my bed." I say, sitting on the stairs. "Again."

He sighs, and looks at me. "Why do you do that Brooke?"

He knows why I do that, but asks me anyways, wants me to admit it to myself, because it will make things much easier, he knows it.

"I don't know" I shrug, I do know why, but saying it out loud is not as easy as Lucas makes it seem to be. "It's who I am."

"It's not who you are" he fights back, trying to make eye contact. "It's who you are trying to seem to be. But you are not that girl, I know that"

I turn to him as his blues bulge into my hazel, his fingers now, move on my skin, and each touch sends shivers down my spine, as if he was turning the pages of my novel, the one I never written down literally, but somehow gave Lucas to read.

Our lips meet suddenly, and with each kiss I feel myself drowning to him more, my heartbeats getting stronger by minute. Our tongues mate and dance, devouring, tasting each other as if it is the last chance to meet again. Each kiss turn into passion, red and burning, and every flame burns through my soul.

"I love you Lucas Scott." I murmur between breaths, looking at him.

He smiles for a minute and replies.

"I love you too…pretty girl."

_I am slowly falling apart  
I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start  
And you might think its easy being me  
You just stand still, look pretty_

They say it's the good girls that keep diaries; bad girls never have the time. Me, I just wanna live a life I am going to remember even if I don't write it down. Yet still, I take a piece of paper, to be the start of a life that will be worth remembering, that will be better than the thing I lived for all those years.

And I'll write the things that make me better off, maybe as a good girl, maybe as someone bad.

And I'll start with Lucas, because people who are meant to be together always find each other in the end.

**A/N: Please Review!!!!!**


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